Masquerade
by AdmHawthorne
Summary: The HR Department at the precinct decides it would be a community bonding exercise for everyone to attend a Halloween Block Party... in costume. Rizzles. CoWritten with Googlemouth
1. Chapter 1

**Cowritten with Googlemouth. Character are not ours. They belong to Tess and TNT. We're just borrowing them, but we promise to send them back unharmed. ;-)**

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><p>Costume parties were something Jane Rizzoli had never really been into, so when the HR department of the precinct decided it would be a great way to do a little inter-department staff bonding and allow the community to feel more comfortable with the police by throwing a block party, she grumbled at what inevitably was going to happen. The Community Halloween Costume Party (or CHCP as everyone had started referring to it) was soon, and the pressure from everyone was starting to pile up.<p>

As an officer, it was pretty clear she was expected to go. It was also clear she was going to have to go _in costume_, which just made it worse.

"Hey, Jane, did you figure out what you're going to wear to CHCP tomorrow?" Frost handed her a cup of coffee and the sugar canister.

"Yeah, a shirt that says, 'This is my costume'," she shot back as she started pouring the sugar.

"Come on! This could be fun. You can be whatever, or whoever, you want. Don't tell me there's not a single, solitary character anywhere that you've wanted to dress up as. I bet you wanted to be Wonder Woman when you were a kid, didn't you?" He laughed at her horrified face.

"No way! She was always getting caught and having to be saved by that army guy. For a superhero, she kind of sucked. I mean, take away her little rope, and she was pretty much done." She rolled her eyes, put the sugar down, and started stirring. "Meanwhile, _I_ am awesome with _or_ without my gun. I don't need some random prop to make me a badass."

"That so?" Frost raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, that's so. What? You questioning my awesomeness?" She took a test sip, made a face, and started adding more sugar.

"No, no, far be it for me to question how good you are." He chuckled as he watched the sugar pour. "Okay, so who then? There's got to be _someone_. Come on, Jane, loosen up."

"Who are you going as?" She was stirring again.

"I'm going as the Green Lantern. I found this really great costume a couple of weeks ago, and I think I look pretty good in it. I even have a power ring."

"You're such a nerd."

"Yeah, well, you're a spoilsport. Jane, really? You have to dress up. You know the Brass expects us to anyway." He gave a frustrated sigh. "There's going to be food, drinks, and a lot of dancing. There's a live band _and_ a DJ."

"I _know_. I got that memo, too." She taste tested again. It was perfect. "Fine. If I pick a costume, will you stop nagging me?"

"Yes."

"Okay, let me think about it for a second." She sipped her coffee as she gave it some genuine thought. "How about a pirate?"

"You mean like Jack Sparrow?" Frost gave her suspicious eyes.

"No, but now that you mention it, maybe. I have a friend who does makeup. You know, he's one of those… what do you call it? Special effects people. I bet he could set me up with a pretty rocking goatee."

"You're serious? A _male_ pirate? Do you really think you could pull off acting like a guy?"

"Yeah, I bet I could." She gave her partner a hard look at his look of amusement. "I could! I could totally pull off being a guy for a night!"

"Yeah, sure," he shook his head.

"Hey, how about we bet on it?"

Frost was suddenly more interested. "What do you have in mind?"

"I'll get with my friend and, if he can help me get a costume together for tomorrow night, the only person I'll let see me before we go is you so you know who I am. In fact, let's plan to carpool. If I can go for the whole party without anyone figuring out who I am, then _you_ have to cover my night shift this weekend."

"And if you fail?"

"Which I won't."

"_If_ you do?"

"What do you want?"

"I want you to give me lead at the next crime scene." Frost looked smug.

"No way! I'm senior detective here. You can't just," at her partner's look of 'thought so', she growled. "Okay, fine. If I lose, _which I won't_, then you can take lead at the next crime scene after the party."

"Deal. Can't _wait_ to see this!" He chuckled all the way back to his desk.


	2. Chapter 2

"Of course we're expected to attend," said Maura Isles, chief medical examiner, as she faced a nearly full cadre of lab techs, all of them including herself suited up in medical scrubs. Gesturing towards the flyer taped to the wall, she pointed out, "It says here that the entire precinct is expected to attend. I think they meant that the entire precinct _are_expected to attend, meaning each of us as individuals, rather than the group collectively, but in either case, we are included. I'm going, too. I have my costume all picked out."

"What is it?" asked one of the technicians, lab coat and goggles obscuring his identity.

Maura smiled. "Oh, no. The entire point of a masquerade is anonymity. It's more fun that way. I'm sure you'll spot me right away, because I'm not very good at coming up with anything inventive, but at least I'm keeping it a mystery until you actually see me. Now, back to work - but don't let me hear anyone trying to make other plans on that night. A valid reason to miss the event would be injury, illness, religious obligation, or a _prior_ engagement. It would not be," her voice lifted to the pitch and timbre commonly used for mockery, _"I couldn't find a costume because I didn't try until an hour before the party."_With that, she headed out of the lab, through the morgue, and to the elevator. Crowe and Korsak would be waiting for the information she had learned on her trip to the lab, as well as the results from her examination of the body they had brought her, the latest puzzle she had taken apart and reassembled into a coherent picture of suicide. With that, she headed for the Homicide bullpen, taking the stairs rather than the elevator. A girl had to tone her calves and quadriceps any way she could.

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><p>Maura paused as she heard the voices of Barry Frost and Jane Rizzoli in friendly argument over the coffeepot just outside the bullpen. She was fairly certain they had not seen her yet, and she was also fairly certain she understood the subject of their disagreement. This ought to be fun. The pathologist smiled as she took a step backward into the hallway. <em>I am invisible,<em> she thought to herself, quoting Oberon's famous lines from The Taming Of The Shrew, _and I will overhear their conference._

"Hey, how about we bet on it?"

Frost's voice sounded interested. "What do you have in mind?"

"I'll get with my friend and, if he can help me get a costume together for tomorrow night, the only person I'll let see me before we go is you so you know who I am. In fact, let's plan to carpool. If I can go for the whole party without anyone figuring out who I am, then you have to cover my night shift this weekend."

"And if you fail?"

"Which I won't."

"_If_you do?"

"What do you want?"

"I want you to give me lead at the next crime scene." Frost looked smug.

"No way! I'm senior detective here. You can't just," Jane abruptly paused and then let out a growl. "Okay, fine. If I lose, _which I won't_, then you can take lead at the next crime scene after the party."

"Deal. Can't _wait_ to see this!" He chuckled all the way back to his desk.

Maura smiled. She had been a bit too late to hear Jane's costume plan, but if she knew her best friend, it would be clever, creative, possibly funny, and a lot of fun to figure out, if she could. It would be like a scavenger hunt, seeing if she could find Jane amid the entire precinct of cops, lab techs, medical examiners, brass, office staff, and custodial workers plus the number of people from the regular community that were likely to show up. Probably even some lawyer types from the District Attorney's office, she realized, would show up because they did work closely with the police when building cases. _And if I figure out who Jane is, Barry will get a chance to take the lead on an investigation. He deserves the opportunity to try. Challenge accepted!_

As a side benefit, Maura would essentially be attending the party alone. She adored her best friend, but had become a little too reliant on Jane, a little too ready to hide in the lanky detective's shadow and depend on her to make introductions and save her from social awkwardness. Showing up as something other than Jane's shadow would force her to speak to people on her own, learn to deal with situations in a way that didn't involve a retreat into studies, figures, or science. After all, she had eventually learned the rules for communicating within the social stratum to which she had been reared; these, too, were human beings, albeit much less formal ones, and even if she had yet to learn them, they too had their rules. Maybe it was time she learned them.

All at once, a costume idea struck her so forcefully that she nearly laughed aloud. It would conceal her face and much of her body, allowing her to remain anonymous. It would allow her to speak if she wanted, but also to remain silent. It would feel comfortable, look exotic, and step entirely outside herself and her own demeanor. It would be freeing.

So consumed was she by the idea of her costume that Maura entirely forgot why she had come upstairs. She scurried back to the elevator as it dinged, passed Korsak exiting it as she entered, and failed to hand him the folders she had meant to give him. She had to get back down to the morgue, to her office, her laptop. She had some online costume shopping to do.


	3. Chapter 3

Jane's apartment door swung open, and in the doorframe stood a tall, dark haired, lanky… male pirate.

"Jane?" Frost's eyes widened behind his mask.

"Pretty good, huh?" She stepped back to let her partner in.

"It's," he pulled himself together, trying for nonchalance, "not bad. You're no Johnny Depp, though."

"Not trying to be. I'm being original here!" With a nod of her head, she motioned for him to follow her into her bedroom. "I look pretty good with a goatee, huh? Jackson, my FX friend, said this one is called a 'Van Dyke'." She studied herself in the full length mirror in her bedroom. "Check it out, he even gave me sideburns."

"Man, that costume," Frost shook his head. "How much did you pay for it?"

"Didn't. He let me borrow it from the costume department. One of the girls there said I could use it as long as I had it dry cleaned before I brought it back. Pretty kickass, isn't it?" She was smiling, her smirk hidden behind the facial hair.

"It looks good, like you just stepped out of a movie or something." With an appreciative eye, he looked over the costume starting at the bottom and working his way up.

The dark red, suede, knee high pirate boots had small golden accent buckles on the outside by the ankle. In the top of the left boot, a golden dagger handle stuck out. The pants were black leather and laced up the sides. Not too tight, but not too loose, they were just right for making it hard to guess what was under them. A dark red tasseled sash hug around her waist. The knot to one side, it hung down her left side and billowed slightly as she walked. A pirate sword hung on her right hip from a black leather belt with a golden buckle. Hidden under the dark red, suede pirate jacket with golden embroidery, Frost could just make out the line of what looked like a gun handle at the small of Jane's back. Under the jacket, she wore a white, ruffled shirt, one he'd call a pirate shirt.

She wore black leather gloves with large, gaudy golden rings over the gloves on a few fingers. Her neck held three or four gold chains of various sizes, and one gold chain with a medallion containing a large red jewel that hung just lower than the rest.

Besides the goatee and sideburns, she also sported an eye patch and a black scarf tied tightly around her neck. Her hair was down and had been curled into large ringlets to resemble something along the lines of what one might see when watching a very old pirate movie. Everything was topped off with a traditional black tricorn hat with matching dark red lining around the outside brim.

"You," he said, "could walk on any movie lot, and no one would wonder if you belonged there."

"Thank you. Now, let's go so I can win." She was still smirking.

"Hold up a second, how do we define win?" He pursed his lips in thought. "I think we need a determining factor here."

"Okay, what?"

"How about you get a girl's number?"

"Please, I could do that _without_ the costume." She gave a scoffing laugh.

"True. Okay, how about you dance with at least one girl, more than once, without her figuring out you're a chick? But, at the end of the night, you tell her."

"That's cold, Frost. I mean, if the roles were reversed and it was me…"

"So you can't do it."

"What? No! I didn't say that. But I mean…"

"It's a costume party. Some trickery should be expected, Jane." His voice was mocking. "But, if you don't think you can, then…" He shrugged.

"Okay, fine. Fine! Deal, I dance three times with the same chick without her catching on. Then I win. Sound good?"

"Sounds perfect. Come on, let's go before all the burgers are gone."


	4. Chapter 4

"Package for M. Isles. Please sign here."

Maura signed quickly, spelled her name just to be certain he had it right, thanked the man, and accepted the large white box with the blue and orange FedEx logo. Once the door was closed, she forgot all about her dinner in favor of ripping open the box. Her eyes lit up as she pulled out the contents, layer upon layer of sheer fabric that would, she hoped, conceal most or all of her figure even under bright light.

"Oh, you beauty," she breathed aloud as she held it up, rushing to the mirror to see how it looked. Her eyes twinkled. It was perfect. Where was the head piece? What about the shoes? She ran back to check the box. Perfect again. She ran to the bedroom to shuck the Givenchy dress she had worn to work that day.

A shower, some over-the-top cosmetics, and a bit of acrobatic hair-fixing had her ready to try the costume on at last. If it didn't look right, or if it didn't fit, she did have her original idea that she had thought was fairly clever, if not all that interesting. She would paint her face black, put on her black scrubs, put on a black stocking cap, and stick white electrical tape all around the sides over herself, and go as a chalk outline.

As she peered into the mirror, turning this way and that to check all angles, the costume swirled around her body. It felt comfortable, especially considering it wasn't real silk. It was viscose, very fine, and each layer extremely sheer. It would look risqué, but not actually reveal anything at all. In fact, that was its entire purpose: concealment.

Moreover, because it was not real silk, no one would realize that it was Maura Isles wearing the costume. They would never expect her to wear a synthetic fabric. That was the genius of viscose: it looked like almost-silk, yet it was actually made of plant fiber. She would be physically comfortable even while looking like someone settling for synthetic because she could not afford real silk. The idea made her giggle.

The shoes, too, were inexpensive. $25, straight from India. She could have gone with shoes made according to a millennia-old pattern that was closer to that of the time and place of the person she had chosen to portray. The cost of them, however, would have been readily apparent in the styling and fit, and she was not only masquerading as the character, but as someone who emphatically was _not_Maura Isles. The only real money in the outfit came from the headdress, and here too she had economized, requesting tiny glass beads instead of actual silver, and more viscose instead of silk.

Maura smiled as she looked down at the final piece of trickery. It had been difficult to keep gloves on for the entire day at work, but she had managed it. No one had seen her hands, nor her feet, arms, or legs all day today.

She made certain her hair was completely hidden by the headdress, put the final kohl around her eyes, and stepped back to look into the full-length mirror. "Salaam," she whispered to her reflection as she bowed low in greeting.


	5. Chapter 5

The crowd was already thick by the time Frost parked the car. "You ready?" He was smirking.

"Yeah, I got this," Jane opened the door and stepped out to look over the sea of costumes. "I wonder if Korsak came as a dog? He said he was thinking about it."

"Seriously?" The car beeped as Frost locked it and slid the keys into his waistband.

"Oh yeah, I'm totally serious." They laughed as they headed for the food. "Okay, so you see a target yet?"

"Me? Oh no, Riz… um, what are you going to call yourself anyway?" Frost glanced around to see if anyone was listening, which they weren't. Too many people in too small of a confined space meant there was a unique privacy to their conversation.

"Oh, good question. How about you just call me 'Captain'?" At her partner's look of annoyance, she sighed. "Okay, how about…The Dread Pirate Roberts?" She smiled.

"As you wish," Frost bowed as they made it to the table to grab a plate. "So… Roberts …this is your game. Be a man and pick your own 'target'." He grabbed a bun.

Jane glanced around the crowd. "There's a little blonde over there that might be easy, and," she kept looking, "that redhead talking to Crowe looks like she might be fun. Maybe I'll go talk to them and see if either one bites? You want to be my wingman?"

"Really? You've been like this for less than an hour, and you're already looking for a wingman and sizing up your chances of scoring? You sure you haven't done this before?" He stabbed a pickle to put on his plate.

"Hey, I don't like what you're implying there buddy," she scowled at him as she slathered some mayo on her burger.

"Just saying," he held his hand up in mock retreat. "But, no, I _will not _be your wingman. You're on your own, pal." Shaking his head, Frost took his plate and made his way over to Crowe and the redhead.

"Fine," Jane grumbled as she swaggered over to the blonde. "Supergirl?" She asked, voice lower than normal with more of rasp to it.

"Yeah! Totally love her in the comics. Movie sucked though. Great pirate getup." She smiled in return. "Hi, I'm Sandy." She looked over to the brunette she'd been talking to. "This is Heather."

"Hi!" The shorter woman squealed. She was clearly a Starfleet Security officer from Captain Picard's ship.

"Hey," Jane replied. "I am," she bowed slightly from the waist, voice flirtatious, "the Dread Pirate Roberts. Perhaps you've heard of me?"

The women giggled. "Oh, yes, I've heard of you, but I thought your name was Wesley, and didn't you have blonde hair like mine?" Heather was clearly intrigued.

"Ah, rumors of my appearance have greatly exaggerated, I'm afraid. Had to make that imposter walk the plank. Can't have pretenders out there tarnishing my good name, right?" She smiled at the blonde.

"You make a good point," she replied, her Starfleet friend all but forgotten for the moment. "So, are you here on shore leave, Dread Pirate Roberts, or are you looking to settle for a while?"

"I may be looking to dock my ship in a friendly harbor for a bit," Jane replied, her grin causing the goatee to tilt upwards. "You know a good spot I might be able to do that?"

"I just might," the blondes eyelids were lowered, and her voice was starting to get a bit huskier.

"Sandy," the short brunette tugged at her friend's arm, "Justin?" Her voice was annoyed.

"Is just a friend," Sandy hissed back.

"He's waiting for us." Heather replied flatly.

"Fine," Looking from the lanky pirate to the short Starfleet officer, Supergirl sighed. "Go ahead, I'll catch in a couple." At the look she received, she added. "I promise, okay?" Once Heather took leave, Sandy looked back to Jane. "Justin is her older brother. He's in from Iraq on leave, and he's got the hots for me, but he's really not my type. But, you know, he's only here for a couple of days and he's a soldier, so I don't want to piss him off when he might not… well, you know. Listen, if you're not busy in a few days, maybe we could meet up for lunch or something? I'd really like to see what you look like without that eye patch." She winked before pulling a pen out of her cleavage line and writing something on the napkin in her hand. "Here, and, what _is_ your name anyway? For real?"

Jane tilted her head to the side, smile becoming a bit more of a leer for just a brief moment as she considered where the pen had just been. "Truly, it's Roberts." She took the napkin, looked at the number and name on it, and held back a laugh of triumph. "I'll look you up. Your friends are going to miss you, Supergirl."

"I guess I better go. I look forward to hearing from you, Dread Pirate Roberts." She walked away with an extra swing to her hips, glancing over her shoulder to make certain Jane was watching her.

A huge smile on her face, Jane made her way to Frost, Crowe, and the redhead. _'Next,'_ she thought as she zeroed in on the redhead wearing the X-Men costume. She looked like she was going for Jean, and Jane knew just the line to catch her attention.

She stuck the napkin with number into the breast pocket of her coat as she made her way over.


	6. Chapter 6

The band took a break after their Springsteen cover to get some water, and the DJ took over. Pussycat Dolls' "Buttons" started pounding out, and the dance floor swapped personnel from those who remembered Springsteen the first time around to the younger crowd who still knew they were fit and hot. A lot of the latter were comprised of women who took Halloween as their yearly excuse to dress and act slutty. Naughty Nurse, Sexy Witch, Hot Devil… the standards were all there, along with a few superheroes and supervillains with tight spandex, short skirts, plunging necklines, and a handful of other clever excuses at revealing actual skin or, at least, the extremely clear outline of the wearer's favorite body parts.

Except the one, of course. There was one figure on the dance floor who had not gone that route, though her movements suggested athleticism and grace, and the dance lights flashing all around occasionally shone through several layers of fabric to hint at a figure that was taut, fit, and curvaceous. She was apparently some centuries-old Arab or Persian woman, though not with any sort of historical accuracy, or so Jane (ahem, Roberts) heard a guy in full-on knight's armor mentioning to his date. She recalled that Sergeant McIntyre did some sort of dress-up historical reenactment thingy on the weekends.

The woman wore an outfit that was largely shapeless, made of some wannabe-silk material that looked very sheer when individual layers would flare out due to her movements, but there were so many that they concealed her figure in spite of themselves – all shades of blue, green, purple, and even a little fuchsia here and there, saturated colors ranging from medium tones to near-black darkness. The top layer sparkled with sequins and glass beads here and there, and those shiny materials also made up an elaborate headdress that looked expensive in the dim evening light with the flashing lights, but would probably seem cheap when in the bright light of day. Henna tattoos further complicated her, all the way from her fingertips and the tops of her feet, up arms and legs, until fabric obscured them. Her back was to the drink and snack tables, but as she whirled around, one could see that not only her figure was obscured by the costume, but also her face: there was a veil of similar fabric and beading as her gown, but with much more beading around the eyes and over the nose. Full niqab, mentioned one of the officers whose son had embraced Islam a year or two ago, as he reached for a pig-in-a-blanket.

Definitely female. Moreover, definitely aware of it. She was surrounded by men. Even some who had brought dates were in her circle while the dates were getting drinks, powdering their noses, or dancing with each other in the way that so many women loved to do, making it clear that they were putting on a sexy show for males in the vicinity. This one wasn't bothering with that. She wanted to dance, was dancing, with anyone who came along. Everyone who came along, in fact, and all at once, movements rapidly shifting between what looked like traditional belly dance, club dancing of the sort done by the original singers of the song playing, and some suggestive little something that made her fabric shimmy and her beads flash in the lights.

Still, she did not seem to really be focusing on her small but growing crowd of admirers. Someone who watched her long enough, and read her clearly enough, would eventually determine that she was simply using her vantage point on the dance floor to scan the crowd, looking for someone.


	7. Chapter 7

"Roberts?" Jean, or rather the woman dressed as X-Men's Jean, said in a slightly irritated voice, "am I boring you?"

"Hmm?" Jane glanced from the dance floor to the woman in front of her. After two seconds and a flashy smile, she had not only managed to steal the redhead's attention away from Crowe, but pick up the woman's real name, Debbie, and her phone number, which was now safely tucked away with Sandy's in her inside breast pocket. "No, not at all!" She was trying to recover from the glimpse of the veiled dancer on the floor. "My apologies, Jean, I hope you don't use your powers to mind-wipe me or something." The tall pirate leaned over a bit closer to the X-Man. "Wouldn't want to forget where I buried my treasure, after all."

"No, I bet you wouldn't," she deadpanned before adding, "I could think of a few places you might be able to bury your treasure."

Frost, standing not far away, chocked on his drink.

"I might take you up on that offer. There's never a time when a pirate could turn down a good opportunity to bury his treasure," Jane waggled her eyebrows.

"Oh my god," Frost mumbled under his breath.

"Is it true what they say about pirates?" Debbie went on, ignoring Green Lantern.

"That our swords are as long as our…" Frost coughed, interrupting Jane. "You okay, there, buddy?" Jane turned to her partner.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just had something go down the wrong pipe." He kept coughing.

"Looks like your friend could use some help," Debbie gave an annoyed look to Frost who was now doubled over.

"Yeah, listen, I'll give you a call, okay?" Jane was already turning to Frost.

"Okay, Roberts, I look forward to it," Debbie sighed, frowning as she walked toward the refreshment table.

"Really?" Jane hissed as she patted Frost on the back. "You had to choke just before I could get her out on the floor?"

"Dude, Roberts," Frost was starting to breathe normally again, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to coc … wait a minute." He slowly stood up straight. "What I am saying? It's not like you were really going to take her home."

"True, but how am I supposed to win the bet if you keep blocking me? You're sabotaging me on purpose!"

"I am not! I honestly choked. I'm sorry. Look, why don't you just shoot for another girl?"

Standing up to look over the crowd, Jane's eyes fell directly on the veiled woman she'd seen earlier who now had quite a crowd of male admirers. "I think I found my target." At that moment, the veiled woman's eyes locked onto those of the Dread Pirate Roberts – only for an instant, and then she whirled away from her current dance partner and on to the next, seeming to have no attachment to any of the others whatsoever.

"Oh yeah?" Frost followed her gaze. "That chick in the multicolored veiled thing?"

"Yup," she looked back to her partner. "If I can get _her_ to dance with me three times, you have to cover two of my night shifts."

"Man, if you can get _her_ to dance with you three times, I'll give you crazy mad props. Half the men here want that one." He was skimming the faces of her audience.

"And a lot of the women," Jane added. "I'm totally going for it. We got a deal on what? Double or nothing?"

"Yeah, okay, double or nothing." They shook on it.


	8. Chapter 8

The DJ was hot, and the crowd was starting to pulse to the beat. As Jane pushed her way through the crowd, Jane heard him switch tracks to a new song, and she had to smile as the line "_You've got me out on the floor"_ started going just as she made it to the inner circle of the ring surrounding the veiled woman. By the time the tall, lanky pirate stepped up to encourage the small blonde man trying to dance with the veiled woman to go away, the line "_If I were a man I'd make my move"_ nearly made her laugh out loud.

It didn't matter. In a moment's time, she was dancing with the woman, and she found herself moving in ways she didn't even know were possible and taking charge of most of them. She could hear remarks from the peanut gallery float on the air around her.

"Lucky bastard."

"Son of a… there goes my chance."

"Man, I was _this_ close."

Jane smirked, her goatee rising as she danced with the costumed woman every man around her wanted. She was totally going to win this bet.

* * *

><p>Scheherazade's eyes glittered darkly under the multicolored lights, the strobe's flash, as she stopped dancing for the circle around her and started focusing on the one other dancer who had the gumption to separate from the pack and claim her attention. Beneath her veil, Maura's expression could not be seen, but the veil subtly moved with her cheeks to indicate a smile. <em>Right height. General build is obscured, but it's not too big. It entered talking to Frost, and then talked to him later by the punch bowl. I smell glue; the goatee is false. <em>_Sideburns partially__ hide the jaw line, and I can't tell if there's a cleft chin beneath __the Van Dyke__. Smart choice._

Little by little, Scheherazade's dancing style altered so that it was just a bit less about arm and leg motion and a good bit more about the area between the shoulders and knees. Still, she remained in character, not quite permitting touch between them. She was supposed to be a proper Persian woman tonight, and while such a woman might dance, she certainly would not do so with a strange man.

Or would she?

As Enigma's "Mea Culpa" started, its sensuality mocking the Latin liturgical text that formed the majority of the lyrics, the veiled woman's movements took her closer into the Dread Pirate Roberts's personal space. It could have been imagination that the air between them was warmer than that around them, but, then again, it was a warm night, a crowded dance floor, and both of them had been dancing vigorously – she for a longer time. Kohl-rimmed eyes focused on the pirate's face. _The nose could be Jane's. The eyes are wide-set, the forehead broad enough. The one eye I can see is the right shape, the right shade of brown as far as I can tell._ Briefly they flicked down as their movements created accidental contact of her chest to the pirate's ribs. It made her appear demure despite the suggestiveness of her writhing, which the look enhanced.

_The shoulders are a bit broad, but who knows how many layers of clothing are beneath the costume? I need to know more. If it's not her, then this might be someone I really ought to get to know. If it is… well, then, I've gotten to know something about my best friend that I don't think she'd have ever told me directly._

_Oh, what the heck._

One hennaed hand snuck forward and latched onto the pirate's shoulder. Not padded, just a little more ease in the garment than usual.

* * *

><p>Jane's breathing sped up as the dance continued, and her uncovered eye shifted quickly to the hand on her shoulder. This was the second dance. She only needed one more, and she totally had the win in hand.<p>

Looking down into the eyes of the shorter woman, she smiled but decided to say nothing. She didn't want to give anything away. Instead, she placed her glove covered hands on the hips she'd been watching through the first dance and guided them about the small space that seemed to have opened up around them on the floor.

_Wow her body is tight. I bet she works out… a lot. I am loving the way she moves, really graceful. I wonder if she's a dancer? Man, those eyes. They're incredible. I bet she could pick up any guy here, and she's still dancing with me. I'm one lucky… wait a minute. What the hell am I thinking?_

Despite herself, Jane's eye lowered for a quick glance down the fabric-swathed body in between her hands.

_I'm thinking this chick is hot. You'd have to be blind or there's something wrong with you if you can't at least admit that, straight or not._

With some obvious difficulty, Jane pulled her uncovered eye back up to meet the gaze of her dance partner.

Over by the refreshment table, Barry Frost was choking again.

* * *

><p><em>The loose shirt conceals the narrowness of waist, and the sash on the hip instead of the waist enhances the illusion. Gloves hide the hands. Long hair; it looks like Jane's, but could still be a wig. Long legs, slender build. But it could still be that fellow in the Cyber Crimes unit. I haven't seen him dance, so I don't know if these movements could belong to him. Could they be Jane's? Inconclusive.<br>_  
><em>The pirate doesn't speak. The voice would give her away, if it's actually Jane. Then again, there are smokers who sound just like her. The pirate doesn't smell of smoke; if it speaks, I'll have another clue.<em>

Her eyes remained on her partner's face as the veiled woman's spine began to snake in ever shifting curves, pulling her inexorably closer in towards the pirate's body. With just a little more forwardness on her own part, especially if her dance partner cooperated, she planned to soon possess two valuable pieces of information. She would know whether the figure wore an ace bandage or other strapping device around its ribcage, and she would know whether there was an obvious sign of male arousal.

The veiled woman inhaled as she prepared for the final reconnaissance mission, and the mysterious… person's scent filled her nostrils with more information to file away. The smile left Maura's face so that, beneath the veil, Sheherazade's cheeks ceased to be plump, despite other subtle signs of enjoyment. Such as the refusal to even turn her head and look when someone tried to tap in when the song changed to Heart's "Crazy On You."

* * *

><p>Jane felt the woman in her hands try to move closer, and she smiled as she stepped back to keep her from getting too close. With a wry smile, she continued to dance, making certain there was some room between them.<p>

_Yeah, not going to happen, woman. I need you to finish this dance with me so I can win this bet._

As the song ended, another began quickly - "S&M". _What's one more song? I won the bet._ She glanced over to Frost, who had been watching them the entire time. She nodded at him. He nodded in return.

"_I __won,"_ her nod said.

_"You __did,"_ his returned. With a shake of his head, he turned around to talk to someone behind him.

A triumphant smile on her face and a twinkle in her… eye …she turned back to her dance partner and resumed her focus on their dance.

_One more dance and then I'll tell her. I mean, she's just so good… what's one more dance, right?_


	9. Chapter 9

Maura experienced a moment of frustration as her pirate denied her the information she sought, followed by a low chuckle in her throat and chest as she realized why. Again she tried, but even more subtly this time, making it seem mostly accidental, just a trick that both their bodies were playing on them.

Her arms slipped upward as she curled and twisted, opening her up to all sorts of liberties that the vast majority of dance partners would take, and certain of her movements suggested that she might welcome them. An arch of the back, the head tilted back, the arms lowering to close around the back of her pirate's neck. "Scheherazade" had given up, little by little, all pretense of being a proper Persian woman of a century ago. Now she was just a woman in the arms of a dance partner she was enjoying; and when again her spine and neck straightened so that she could look into her partner's one uncovered eye, her veil was moving just a tiny bit with some sort of motion of her lower face - damn if she wasn't mouthing the words to the song.

* * *

><p><em>Holy Mother. This chick… if I were a guy, I'd be in a world of hurt right now.<em>_Man, she's hot._

Jane's neck prickled where the woman's hands wrapped around, and she was starting to have a hard time not allowing the dancing embodiment of sex to slide up against her as the woman clearly wanted to do.

_I won the bet. What does it matter if she finds out now? _Jane raised an eye brow. _It doesn't._

A gleam in her eye, face fiercely determined, Jane pulled the woman against her and into a grinding movement to go along with the beat, if not the lyrics, to the song.

* * *

><p>"<em>Ahh,"<em>the veiled woman gasped out, just barely audible over the pumping music that had given them their excuse. She stopped mouthing lyrics, surprising herself with a rapidity and avidity of response that felt far more genuine than she had meant to feel.

All of a sudden, the pirate was against her, and she was holding them close together, one hand wrapping around her dance partner's slender waist and sliding up, up the back to the bandage that held femininity flat in front and bound itself in the back. At the same time, her hips crashed into the pirate's, and when the collision was not met with choking or crippling pain, she was beyond certain, and beyond caring.

She did not express the slightest surprise at what she found, or did not find, in either location of interest.

* * *

><p>Jane's hands wound their way further down to the veiled and deliciously curved hips swaying before her. <em>For this chick,<em> she lowered her eye again, not bothering to try to hide the fact she was looking, _I think I'd flip. God, she's just… holy crap. I don't think I've ever wanted to know what was under someone's costume as badly as I want to know what's under hers. If what I'm feeling means anything, she's got to be smoking hot._

At seeing the lack of surprise in her partner's eyes, the tall, lanky pirate chuckled. _Well, what Frost doesn't know won't hurt him. At least she's not freaking out. Maybe… maybe I could talk her into going someplace where we can talk? Wow, can't believe I just thought that. How many times have I heard that line? It's true, though. I've got to know who she is. I mean I just… yeah okay, I might not be a straight as I thought I was. I'm going to deal with that later. Right now, I'm going to try to get her off this dance floor._

The song came to an end with both dancers out of breath and flushed. As yet another song started, Jane took her partner's hand and led them through the crowd. She ignored the hard looks she was receiving from most of the guys and some of the girls. In a matter of moments, they were near the line of parked cars and away from the loud noise of the party.


	10. Chapter 10

In the relative silence, Jane glanced down to their hands and gently let go. "How long did you know?" Her voice was still lower than normal, still huskier than normal, but she was not forcing it. Between the dancing and the realization of her attraction, she was too distracted to keep the desire out of her tone.

"Know that you're a woman?" asked a low, sultry, husky voice. Not as husky as Jane's, but enough to disguise the usual timbre so that it only sounded vaguely familiar as the Persian dancer came to rest, leaning back against a tall blue SUV. "I had an inkling the first time I saw you, but I didn't _know_ until you let me touch you. I felt the bandage around your ribcage, and then you didn't shriek and double over when I… when I ground into you." She took a moment longer to breathe, one hennaed hand pressing into the valley of her cleavage, still watching the mostly-hidden face of her dance partner. "But I'm still not… completely sure I know what you brought me out here for."

"I want to know who you are." Jane stepped in front of the reclining figure. "I've _got_ to know. You're… there's something about you." She chuckled, "Not to sound like every man I've ever told to beat it, but I was hoping maybe we could go somewhere and talk? Maybe grab a cup of coffee. I know," she held her hand up, "it's a bad line, but it's honest. I just want to _know_ you. Tell me who you are, and I'll tell you who I am." Reaching up, Jane removed her hat and pulled the eye patch off to reveal both deep brown eyes. They pleaded. "Please. I don't normally ask women out. Okay," she rolled her eyes, "you're the first, but," she let out a sigh, "please?"

Though she thought she had known before, the veiled woman was now rocked to the bones with certainty. "I'll tell you," she replied, putting out a hand to stop any more visual revelations. "Stop. Not here. You don't want the entire precinct to know yet, do you? Let's go somewhere else. Text your… your friend and tell him you won't be back. I'll call a cab for us." She was already reaching inside her voluminous attire. One could hear a zipper unzipping, a little fussing around the thigh, and then she pulled out an iPhone and started manipulating the screen. "Then we'll go get that cup of coffee, and I'll show you."

Eyes wide with surprise and some trepidation, Jane nodded as she put the hat on but not the patch. She pulled her phone out and, instead of texting, made a call. "I'm out of here."

"_What?" _Frost's voice was confused.

"I said I'm out of there. You're on your own for the rest of the night."

"_You're joking?"_

"Nope. I'm riding in a cab. I'm done for the night. I just want to make sure we're clear on everything. So?"

"_Yeah… yeah, you won the bet. Enjoy your time off. I'll see you on Monday."_

"Thanks, enjoy the night shift," she was smirking as she hung the phone up. "Okay, I'm ready whenever you are."

"Somehow I doubt that," replied the veiled woman with a wink of one kohl-lined eye, "but maybe you'll surprise me." Momentarily, a cab that had been cruising the neighborhood pulled up. The Persian opened the door and held it for the pirate. Before she gave directions, however, she asked, "Would you prefer a coffee in public, or… private?"

Taking in a deep breath and quickly considering her options, she replied, "Private might be better."

Beneath her veil, the Persian smiled and gave the cabbie directions rather than an address. She did not speak to the pirate, letting the tall, lanky woman gaze out the window and think. They both had a lot to process, but she suspected that the pirate needed it just a little bit more than she did. It wasn't until they were about two blocks away from their destination that Jane sat up, realizing, "We're near my place."

"Are we?" asked the veiled woman rhetorically, and gave the driver the last direction that would have them right outside Jane's door. Again she rustled beneath her dress, this time pulling out bills for the fare. "Keep the change." She swung her door open, got out, and offered a hennaed hand to assist the gloved woman out of the car.

A quizzical look in her eyes, Jane took the offered hand and allowed the Persian woman to lead her. "Do you live here, too?"

"No."

"I don't understand," Jane's voice was guarded as they came to a stop in front of her apartment door. "How do you know where I live?" Her eyes sharpened as her left hand moved to her back. "Just who, exactly, are you?"

Something about her voice, still smoothly pretty, but tense with sudden nervousness at the sight of her pirate reaching for where she normally kept a gun, sounded familiar. Perhaps it was that the ringing in both their ears had died down somewhat since leaving the loud space of the precinct party. One brown eyebrow, darkened earlier with eyebrow pencil, arched delicately upward. "Are you reaching for a weapon, Detective? I would have thought you'd know by now that I'm not armed. Please, let's do this inside and not amuse your neighbors any more than you already have tonight. That is," she added with the lilt of a smile within her voice, "unless you'd like to frisk me right here. Just to be certain, of course. I'll let you."

"Oh. My. God." Jane dropped her hand. "You… it _can't_ be." She blinked rapidly a couple of times, pulled out her key, and opened the door. "Inside." She followed the veiled woman inside, shut the door, greeted her dog, who happily ran to give a loving hello to the other woman, and threw her hat on the sofa. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be back in about ten minutes. You know where everything is."

Likewise, the veiled woman… _Maura_ bent to greet Jo Friday, giving the dog a pet on the head and a tummy rub as Jane moved toward the bedroom. "I'll be here," she promised, and headed for the kitchen.


	11. Chapter 11

It took a little more time than Jane had anticipated to remove the makeup and unbind herself, but, when she walked back into the main part of her apartment, she looked more herself. Face cleaned and hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, she wore a white fitted t-shirt along with the leather pants and red suede pirate boots.

Without a word, she went to the kitchen and, on impulse, grabbed a bottle of apple juice instead of the beer she had been reaching for. After settling on the sofa, she looked to her friend and finally spoke again. "You're hot, you know that?"

Maura had by now removed the veil and headdress from her costume and folded them into a tidy square atop the kitchen counter, jewelry piled on top in a costume-cheap jumble. "Thank you. I was doing my best." She paused, unwinding her hair from the braided bun into which she had fixed it, discarding hair pins and barrettes next to the other pile and shaking out her hair into a gloriously messy cloud of curls. "It was the only way I could think of to get the crowd to give me some space so that I could look for you. I honestly didn't think that you would come right to me, but I'm very glad that you did."

"I wouldn't have if you hadn't managed that audience." Jane's eyes watched Maura move. "Frost and I bet I couldn't dance with a chick for three dances in a row without her figuring out I was a girl. If I won, he covered my night shift this weekend. When we saw you with that crowd of droolers around you, we doubled it. He said I won. I'm not going to argue." She sipped her juice, "You going to come sit down or what?"

With one final shake of her hair, Maura abandoned the kitchen counter and crossed to the other side of the sofa, where she neatly removed her shoes and sat facing Jane, half-curled against the couch arm. "A bet? That was for a bet?" She seriously considered taking offense, then chuckled.

"All right. I suppose I'll just be grateful that you're incapable of backing away from a challenge. You did win, technically. I suspected, but I didn't know for certain until we were halfway through our fourth song. Speaking of which," she asked with a twinkle in her eye, "if you won the bet after three songs, may I speculate on what you hoped to accomplish with the fourth?"

"Could, but," Jane shrugged, "you don't have to. I wanted to ask you out. I had no idea who you were, but I really wanted to ask you out for coffee and figure you out. Go figure it was you. You're the only woman I've ever," as the end of the sentence hit her, the detective stopped talking and sipped her juice.

Before Jane had even finished speaking, Maura was leaning forward, hennaed hand reaching out to stroke her friend's calf in reassurance. "Jane, please don't be embarrassed."

The detective sigh, sounding almost resigned. "You're hot, Maura. You really do have the full package, you know that? Brains and beauty, I mean."

Sensing that Jane still bore some trepidation over her own behavior, Maura replied in gentle tones, keeping her focus entirely on Jane's face. "Think back to what happened between us on the dance floor. You came to me on a bet, but I let you come to me. I didn't know it was just an act. Everything _I_ was doing, I meant. Not on a bet, not on a dare, but on the strength of what I saw in you. See in you. Every day. _You're_ hot."

She sat back, but kept speaking as Jane processed what she was saying. "Do you understand, Jane? Without knowing anything but the way you chose to behave on the dance floor, I wanted you. When I saw you come in with Frost, I thought it might be you, but I wasn't sure. Yet I knew that the person on the dance floor was someone I wanted to get to know. Then I found out that it was you, after all, and…"

She bowed her head, but lifted her eyes to regard her best friend through the curtain of her blackened lashes. "And when I knew that, I was more turned on than I'd been by the strange man who'd first approached me. If you'd made the slightest move, I think I might have let you take me right there."

Jane choked on her apple juice.

After a few gasping breaths, she said, "I'm fine." She held her hand up, keeping the doctor at bay. "One sec." She coughed a few more times, cleared her throat, and took a moment to breathe. "Seriously, Babe, you have to not say things like that when I'm drinking." She cleared her throat again.

After setting the bottle on the coffee table, she turned to face her friend, one leg pulled up and the other dangling off the side of the sofa. "In my head, around the third song, I thought I might flip for you if you'd just say yes." She shook her head. "You know, I think I still would."

For an elongated moment, Maura did nothing, said nothing. Then she nodded once, eyes fixed upon Jane's. "Yes."

"Really?"

"_Yes."_

Uncertain but determined, Jane leaned forward. Placing one hand on the back of the sofa and the other on the armrest behind Maura, she effectively pinned the smaller woman. "Craziest thing," she whispered, "but I'm pretty sure I wanted to do this for longer than a couple of hours." Eyes lowering, she pushed forward to close the space and kiss her friend.

It took nothing at all for Maura to be pinned. She did not resist. She _helped_, leaning back and scooting down until she was quite well beneath Jane, body welcoming, voluminous costume bunching a little as it stayed where she'd been sitting. "As long," she replied breathlessly between kisses, "as you can do it _for_ longer than a couple of hours."

"Is that an invitation?" Jane's voice was deep, eyes dark as she locked her gaze on Maura.

"Invitation," Maura repeated agreeably as her hands slipped up the back of Jane's shirt, "request, demand. What answer will get you there?"

Pulling away from Maura, Jane smirked as she tilted her head. "Say I'm your type."

Maura replied, perfectly serious. "How many people that I think are my type actually make it to a second date with me?" Her mood was not broken, but she found herself capable of rational explanations, even as she hooked one leg behind Jane's and attempted to pull her back down. "If I had to dream up the perfect person for me – and I have, make no mistake, spent a lot of my very solitary life daydreaming about this – he or she wouldn't even come close to you. Jane, you're so much _better_ than my type."

"Now, come down here and keep some of those promises that your body made to me on the dance floor."

"Bossy, aren't you?" Humor dancing in her eyes, she pulled completely back and stood. "Come on," she offered her hand, "the couch is not big enough for you, me, and my promises."

Maura all but leaped up from the sofa, but mentioned along the way, "You know, I'm not always bossy. And I don't always mind that you're bossy. Just don't use the cuffs. Or… the facial hair."


	12. Chapter 12

The hand on her chest was the first thing that registered in her still half asleep mind. Next was the feel of a muscled leg lying over the top of her own. Then, the feel of another female chest pressed tightly against her back, which caused her to open her eyes.

In full out panic mode, she sat up, throwing hand, thigh, and owner of said body parts off of her. "What in the hell?" She glanced around, seeing but not seeing what was about her.

Muzzy-headed, confused, and off-kilter already from the abrupt awakening and change to her position, Maura did not respond intelligently right away. "Where's my dress? Where's the back door?" she mumbled through an early morning yawn. "I thought your parents weren't coming back until…" Her eyes flickered open, then remained open as she got her bearings. _No dorm room._ "Jane? Oh, thank goodness. You wouldn't believe the dream I just had." She sat up and stretched in a much more leisurely fashion. "What happened? Did we get a call for a body?"

"A call? No," Jane rubbed at her eyes as she tried to clear her head. "No, Frost is on call, so I… oh… we… Maura?" Slowly turning around, she looked at the woman beside her. "You wore veils last night, not a dress."

Maura's eyes widened as she caught sight of her hennaed hand and arm in the mirror, then down at her quite naked legs, hennaed all the way up to her sides, with side trips to her stomach. The mehndi artist had gone out of her way to give Maura a full complement of the temporary tattoos all up her legs, arms, sides, stomach, back, and even a bit of her chest. Wouldn't those look a treat in some of the outfits she liked to wear?

She smiled, recalling how much Jane had seemed to like them the night before. "The dress was amorphous, but it was indeed a dress. Veils alone wouldn't have protected me from exposure nearly so well on a dance floor." As she stood to stretch, she caught sight of Jane's face and paused, smile faltering slightly. "You don't look very pleased," she worried. "Should I leave, and put it down to alcohol or hormones or something?"

"Pleased? I'm still asleep," Jane grumbled as one eye half opened and the other remained shut. "I think I need a shower, and some coffee, and some food, and," she managed to open the other eye, "you in the shower with me before coffee and food… maybe separate bathroom time first? Will that stuff come off in the shower? I like tracing it." She made a face. "I'm rambling."

Letting out a quiet sigh of relief, Maura smiled again. _Thank goodness. I thought she was going to tell me to get out and forget all about last night, which would be impossible._ "Separate time, and then together time. Yes. But no, the henna won't fade for two to three months." She sank back onto the bed and slipped one decorated arm around Jane's waist, pulling her close for a sideways hug. "And, if you like, I'll have new ones put on. Maybe a little less visible than these?"

"Mmmm," Jane leaned into the touch, "No, I like them for now, but I'm going to want to see you like I normally picture you in my head. I can't believe we didn't do this sooner." She turned her head so she could see them both in the mirror by her bed. "I thought it would be awkward if, you know, I ever decided to be with another woman. I'm glad it wasn't. I think I owe you some thanks for that." The detective was clearly waking up a bit.

Maura's eyes followed Jane's to the mirror, and once again she smiled at what she saw there: two women with well-earned bedhead, her own kohl eyes gone smoky and streaked, henna tattoos making her look temporarily darker than Jane's warm olive skin. They looked like they'd had a hard night, a good night. The walk of shame would be a revelation to Jane's neighbors, and her own. She chuckled. "I loved every minute of it, and I'm not going to feel awkward if you don't. I've always felt that guilt or shame is a waste of emotion. If you're going to feel bad about doing something, just don't do it."

She turned back to face Jane, not the reflection of Jane, and rested her cheek upon the taller woman's shoulder. "You can have first shot at the bathroom. I'm going to look in your closet and see if I've left anything here that I can wear, so that the Walk of Shamelessness," she winked at the renaming of the term, "won't be quite such a scandal."

Jane slid off the bed and stretched for a moment. "Won't matter. Between the scene we made last night on the dance floor, the fact I picked up a couple of phone numbers, one of which was Crowe's date, _and_ the fact everyone was after you before I got to you, there's not a soul around who won't know that we went home together last night. They were watching us, the cops. I knew it when I pulled you over to the cars to talk. Once they see your tats on Monday and find out I was the pirate, and they will, they'll put it together pretty quickly. Pretty sure Frost is going to say it was a set up, but," she shrugged as she headed to the bathroom, "whatever. If I cared what they all thought, I'd have gone as Robocop and went home alone." She glided out of the bedroom without another word.

"Sure," Maura muttered with humor at Jane's retreating back, "everybody will know at work. But the teenagers who live next door to me don't need to be thinking about it. Three of them are already far too fascinated with my bedroom and bathroom windows as it is, and I don't even want to know how many of them watch me sunbathe in my back yard."

Nevertheless, she did find a few usable items of her own in Jane's closet and one drawer, and laid the outfit on the bed to await her return from her own stint in the bathroom. _Long may it last. She mentioned a shared shower. I loved dancing with her. Let's see what else she can do well while standing up._


	13. Chapter 13

Dispatch called at seven o'clock Monday morning, telling Rizzoli to meet Frost at a crime scene instead of heading in to work. Almost simultaneously, Isles's cellphone also rang. They did not share a car ride, knowing that Jane would need to walk Jo Friday, then head in to process the scene, while Maura would view the body _in situ_ and then ride with it back to her lab to begin a full autopsy. They did, however, delight and offend various of Jane's neighbors with their goodbye kiss outside Maura's car.

Once at the scene, Jane took a good look at the body, which was surprisingly not all that bad to look at. A couple of bruises, some of those burst blood vessels in the face. Maura was just mentioning petechial hemorrhaging – that's what those burst blood vessels were called – and steadfastly refusing to speculate on cause of death. Frost was hanging back, looking not quite as nauseated as he usually did with a bloodier or dismembered corpse. "Hey, Frost," Jane beckoned him to come over. "You paying attention to this?"

"Yeah, Rizzoli," he claimed as he trotted towards her. "What do you need?"

Jane motioned towards Maura, who correctly read the gesture and repeated all she had said before, this time speaking directly to Frost. The man appeared confused, then gave both detective and medical examiner a hard look. "You're telling _me_ this, why?"

"Because," Jane told him as she stepped back away from the body, "the lead detective on a case needs to know everything."

"I'm the lead? _I'm_ the _lead?"_ Frost repeated, incredulous, as Maura stood and beckoned two of her assistants to come and move the body into the waiting vehicle. Detectives and uniformed officers could take over now.

The corner of Jane's mouth pulled back. "Yeah. What, you forget about our bet or something?"

Frost's eyebrows shot up. He stepped closer to Jane and lowered his voice. "You're telling me you lost the bet? The woman in the veil… she knew? _Before_ the three songs were up, she knew?"

Jane didn't even crack a smile. "Yeah. Right when she saw me walk in with you, so thanks for blowing my cover. Now, take the damned case. It's yours." Then she watched as Frost processed, not the crime scene, but the information his partner was giving him.

_Click. Click. DING._ "She danced like that, with you, knowing full well you weren't a man?"

Jane nodded and gave a shrug. "Yeah."

"I heard she left with a pirate. I thought there must have been another one there. Still you?"

Jane started to smirk. "Still me."

"_No shit._ Damn, Rizzoli." Suddenly his eyes went wide. "Wait a minute. You took her _home_. With you? And she knew you were a woman. And…" The implications hit Frost like a stiletto to the base of the skull. "Hold on... Wait just a damn minute! So you…?"

Maura Isles removed her gloves and walked up behind Frost, murmuring in his ear, "Barry. Crime scene. Focus." She lay an ungloved, henna tattooed hand on Jane's forearm. "Call me if you're going to be busy over lunch. Otherwise, I'll see you in my office." Then she sauntered back to the morgue wagon and climbed inside, smiling like someone who had had a very good weekend.

Barry Frost bent over double, choking as his partner grinned.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading. As always, we appreciate your reviews. :-)<strong>


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